


Prick of a Needle

by ShazzyStuff



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Heartbreaking, M/M, SO SORRY, Sherlock Holmes and Drug Use, Sherlock Is A Bit Not Good, no i'm not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-06-03 04:09:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6596131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShazzyStuff/pseuds/ShazzyStuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's only been one year after the Reichenbach Fall.</p><p>And Sherlock's back on the drugs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prick of a Needle

**Author's Note:**

> A quick fanfiction before I go to sleep

Body shaking.

Hands twitching.

Face sweating.

Sherlock found it so hard to just breath properly. He'd gone so long - so long - without the familiar feel of drugs in his system. But his mind and body was craving it. He wanted it. He needed it. Staring at the needle clutched tightly in his hand, Sherlock tried to rationalize. He tried to think of John. John wouldn't want him taking this. John would take it away and throw it in the bin. John wouldn't even let Sherlock anywhere near the stuff.  
But John wasn't with him now.  
Not after the fall. Not after he left John staring at his supposedly dead body lying flat upon the pavement.  
He wanted John. He wanted the drugs too but above all else he wanted John. He wanted to hug him like he did before, to run a hand through his soft hair. Or even to just see his face.  
There'd been so many times where Sherlock had his finger over John's number on his phone ready to dial. He couldn't bring himself to do it though. So it seemed that Sherlock had to settle for second best.

Still staring at the needle. The stupid needle. People could say that Jim Moriarty was his enemy but the needle. The drugs were so much worse. The first time he'd taken something from a needle was in college when someone had offered it to him. Of course, his brother had found out and the man who gave Sherlock the drugs in the first place mysteriously disappeared after that. Sherlock brought the needle up to his arm, hands shaking.  
**You need it.**  
_No I don't._  
**Yes you do, take it.**  
The tip of the needle hovered of the middle of his arm. His thoughts flashed back to the first time John had caught him taking drugs. He was leaning over in his arm chair and his mind was drifting with so many thoughts. One thing he did remember though was that John was looking up into his face, checking him over with tears in his eyes. If Sherlock recalled correctly, it was safe to say that he teared up a little too.

The needle got ever so slightly closer. It would all be over in a few seconds. A few seconds of pain from the needle and everything would be okay. Sherlock bit his lip as the sharp point hovered a millimetre away from his skin. Palms sweaty, hair limp, body shaking, eyes blinking back a tear or two that threatened to shed. "Just this once" Sherlock muttered to himself. Funny, he seemed to remember saying those specific words repeatedly for the past six months. After a moments hesitation, Sherlock pierced his marble white skin with the needle. He groaned as the liquid entered his veins - seizing control - sending his head in a whirl. John's voice thrummed in his eardrums and echoed in his head as he slumped over, needle slipping from his fingers. He curled up into an isolated ball.  
"I'm so sorry, John" he whispered.

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaand, okay, I'm going to sleep now.


End file.
